


The Well and the Lighthouse

by Alias (anafabula)



Series: the one where Martin puts his crush in a jar and pokes holes in the lid [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (partially), Banned Together Bingo 2020, Complicated Relationships, Cuddling, First Kiss, He is also a monster, Humans? In MY ships? No. No thank you., Isolation, It's a handful of post-Ocean of Noise vignettes and they're gay, It’s explicitly cuddling this time, Lonely!Martin, M/M, Monster Jon Sims, POV Multiple, Screenplay/Script Format, They also kiss, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, me: self you must have reasonable height headcanons; also me: hehe size difference machine go brrr, that's it. that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24967789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anafabula/pseuds/Alias
Summary: "Are--" Martin's voice cracks; he swallows, visibly, like he's trying to nudge it back down into place. "Are you just doing this so I'll stay?"There are routines they fall into, eventually. Maybe Jon should be surprised by how easy it is, but he's also better-equipped than anyone to know how out of the question the old normal would be now.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: the one where Martin puts his crush in a jar and pokes holes in the lid [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567801
Comments: 15
Kudos: 98
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020, Rusty Kink





	The Well and the Lighthouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rozzlynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozzlynn/gifts).



> Prompt: `“Sugarcoated Gay Story”`.
> 
> This is a thank-you to Rozzlynn for both [the original prompt](https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=89444#cmt89444) and the really lovely comments along the way! ~~Because I'm -- albeit marginally -- better at expressing appreciation with giftfic than I am at talking to people, to be honest.~~
> 
> Like everything else here, it is also **not** a standalone sequel, and will not make much sense without the context of [the first fic in this series](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20954018). (ETA: Also, if you saw it twice as I was fiddling with post-dating the week-old draft: sorry about that.)

Martin shouldn't be surprised by how endearing he finds any given expression of Jon's desire for -- well, no longer _human_ contact in any sense of the word, but there's not really another option for a term to swap out with the habit. He's surprised anyway, though, just a bit, just the way the extent of his own emotions always catches him off-guard. It's maybe dangerous levels of fondness he's got going here, the way it's still able to overwhelm him, too soft too warm too much, but he thinks that's rather the idea (thinks of Peter telling him he'd misunderstood the kind of prohibition he'd meant, _that would be too_ easy _at this point_ _, Martin, o_ _f course you need reasons to know what loss is_ ). It makes him lightheaded if he thinks about how he feels about him from the wrong angle, especially these days, or otherwise it's a cold bright fiber-optic sort of pain in Martin's lungs when he thinks about doing anything _else_ instead.

So that's... probably about right, all things considered. Certainly puts a natural cap on how long he can stand to visit in on him at once.

He's determined that Jon, if he has to choose, prefers Martin be close to him than that he be visible, albeit a little bitter at having to pick. Even without Martin he'd probably just be seething at physics about it. But he'll still fold himself up (Martin has never had any idea how one man manages to have that many angles) to lean his back against Martin's chest, head a bit higher than his shoulder, not in a position to be surprised by movement but unable to track whatever micro-expressions would mean Martin's face otherwise gives away his decisions before he does so. 

There's a bit of a thrill to it -- every time, apparently -- the way the tension drains out of Jon when Martin touches him, the night-and-day difference of seeing Jon alone compared to feeling him melt against him. Even his breathing changes. Maybe it's a power thing, the way being able to do that just by being there makes Martin feel.

Maybe not.

He doesn't feel as cold to Martin as Jon evidently does to himself, now, but it's not like he's warm, either. Probably room temperature isn't the right sort of temperature for someone's skin. Martin wouldn't really know these days; it's not like anyone touched him except by accident when he didn't know to maybe be paying attention, and now he doesn't really have a frame of reference.

( _Well,_ I _don't know, Martin. I have family for that._ Though there was... a little pause there, at the time. Not enough for Martin to press him on, though. Maybe he'd imagined it. _Never had to look for that sort of thing, wouldn't have any idea where you start. Isn't that supposed to be what you have that Archivist of yours for, anyway?_ ) 

Jon thinks better out loud, sometimes, and it's important to him that he remind himself (his phrasing) that he can in fact _read_ , two things that in practice come together in an antagonistic running commentary on whatever book it is has disappointed him today. He's told Martin he doesn't mind him not paying attention, that it's a simple issue of preferring his company to his absence, for the obvious reason. It gives something Jon to be focused on that isn't Martin and the possibility of extracting novel information about the present from him, which Martin thinks is an upside. He wouldn't know how Jon feels about it, really.

The only setback is he's never sure what to do with his hands. He's better at sitting with his thoughts than Jon is, which Martin does find a bit funny, but he's hyper-aware of what he'd-- wanted, before, and given Jon gets animated at the most unpredictable of times all Martin can try to do is figure out how to be more or less out of the way. Emphasis, often, on less. So that's a background concern, as an ongoing sort of thing; they've got compromise upon compromise left to work out here. That's all right.

Still means he doesn't know what to do with his left hand, though. Martin tries to ignore the stupid perpetual anxiety that's chosen this way to manifest, because it's not like it matters, and what he wants to think about is the almost guilty pleasure of listening to Jon be angry but not at him. He ends up absently dragging his palm across his own thigh instead, for the texture. (Jon had explained to Martin, tried to, the balance he's stuck striking between not knowing things and Knowing things, and Martin supposes having the potential for omniscience looming over your shoulder would give anyone a shorter fuse doing research the old-fashioned way. That Jon insists seems ironically ritualistic at this point, but he's established he's determined about it.) He's probably the most articulate when angry of anyone Martin's ever known -- he's been aware of that for a _while_ now -- and for some reason that, of all things, is still enough to make him feel so _fond_ he has trouble breathing past it. There's a cold, heavy counterweight feeling not lancing through his chest this time but lodged there, too, a bit under where Jon's shoulderblades would be.

 _God_ Jon has a nice voice; did it always resonate like that when he was dealing with someone else being wrong? Especially when he's practically melted against Martin like this, Martin feels it almost as much as he hears it. He's more than happy to focus on that -- this, he's thought more than once, he could've agreed with himself five years ago that he'd want -- and not think about much else in particular at all.

For example, he's not thinking of anything specific, beyond that it might be nice to feel him speak that close to the point of origin, when he moves the problem hand to the base of Jon's neck instead.

Jon stops, abruptly, in the middle of a sentence, with a little not-quite-choked noise capping off the extent to which that was the opposite of Martin's intention; Martin snatches his hand back as if burned. (He has better things to think about than how far round his fingers spanned and how soft Jon is around the scarring there -- for instance, just how badly he's messed up in finding any of that out at all.)

"Martin," Jon says, over-enunciating very carefully after a couple stuttering false starts. "Would-- Do you want me to stop."

"No!" Martin blurts out so quickly he can't tell which of them's the cause of it, old-fashioned awkward guilt jumping up his throat as he realizes exactly how easy it was for Jon to take the gesture that way. The gesture that he-- in no way had permission to-- Christ, he's somehow still such an idiot, at least when it comes to the kind of thing he doesn't _deserve_ to be--

Jon's managed to twist himself round without getting Martin in the gut with his elbow, although his shoulder wedged against Martin's chest has close to the same effect. "Martin," he says, poking him until Martin focuses nearish eye level. "I'm not-- I-- You startled me. That's all."

"Sorry," Martin says, still too quickly, the inside of his head still too warm. "Sorry. I just-- I like your voice, and, and if I put my hand there I can feel it as well as hear it and I wasn't... thinking. I wasn't thinking."

There's a second where Jon's still got him fixed with a gaze that's sort of intrinsically hostile by nature, and then he tilts his head toward the direction Martin's actually looking, birdlike, and all of him relaxes again. "That's all?" he asks, but it's rhetorical this time, Martin can tell from that Jon keeps speaking after. "I, I'm fine with that? Actually?"

"Really?"

"You're warm," Jon says, the tone like it should explain everything, the expression making it obvious that he thinks Martin can't tell he's holding something back. "You should've just said something."

"Yes, well." Martin looks away again, chewing on his lip for a second. (It's-- a lot. This is a lot. Almost too much; but he owes Jon a lot more than just finishing the explanation would cover.) "I wasn't... It's not like I was thinking, and then I didn't want to interrupt, and it didn't occur to me that--"

Jon huffs out a sigh at him and turns his back to Martin, picking up the book Martin's still not sure why he hates so much before leaning back quick enough to knock the air out of him a little as if he'd disappear in the meantime. He picks Martin's hand up by the wrist for him and sets it on his own sternum like there's nothing abnormal about it, and Martin can't think but to let him, the extent to which he's blushing making him faintly lightheaded. "Okay?" he prompts, impatiently, for all the world like Martin's even now still running behind.

Martin opens his mouth once. Closes it. Inches his hand up a little, until half of it's resting on Jon's neck proper, slow enough to give Jon time to stop him, to signal that he can. (He doesn't. His pulse is-- well, he does have one these days, apparently, Martin can't suss out much more than that.) "Y-Yeah, okay."

" _Good_ ," Jon says, vibrating through Martin's palm. "Where was I."

* * *

[OUTSIDE, URBAN ENVIRONMENTAL NOISE, MUTED]

[THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS - A RELAXED, SATISFIED SOUND, FOR NOW WITHOUT HIS USUAL CONFLICT AT SUCH THINGS]

[TAPE ROLLING PEACEABLY]

**ARCHIVIST**

I can tell when you're watching me, Martin.

[UNCOMFORTABLY LONG PAUSE]

[SOFT STATIC, WIPING OUT THE BACKGROUND NOISE ENTIRELY]

**MARTIN**

[Profound awkwardness] I-- it's just, I, well--

**ARCHIVIST**

I don't mind.

**MARTIN**

...Oh. Oh, um, I suppose that would make more sense than the alternative, wouldn't it.

**ARCHIVIST**

I, I do still have personal preferences, you know. [Slight loss of confidence in the joke] Somewhere. But. Yes, it -- it... Yes.

**MARTIN**

So was that... good?

**ARCHIVIST**

[Perking up again, with all his usual enthusiasm for talking about this when no one's reminded him to be appalled at himself] Oh! Yes, very much so, I... [Softly] I needed that.

**MARTIN**

Is it like, you've got to have a, [Amused] a balanced diet, then?

**ARCHIVIST**

[Slightly embarrassed laugh] I guess? You know, a-- [Self-deprecating] a well-rounded, accurate reflection of the, the distribution of the world's fears.

[Muttering] Makes as much sense as anything else, really.

**MARTIN**

It's never seemed-- fair? You know? That you don't get to just, well, _Know_ things that affect you.

[COMFORTABLY LONG PAUSE, MORE OR LESS]

**ARCHIVIST**

I, I think... I mean, it. I'd been sort of wondering if-- I think that might just be me.

**MARTIN**

Sorry?

**ARCHIVIST**

Just, I've never been _good_ at noticing-- I, I used to forget to eat, all the time, a-and--

**MARTIN**

[With a slightly inappropriate amount of feeling] Oh, I remember.

**ARCHIVIST**

\--I think I just, I've never gotten any better at the... self-knowledge? Awareness? Sort of thing? I-I'm not good at it. I don't think not having started to pick up any of that now's some, some meaningful Beholding... _feature._ As opposed to the deciding factor being me.

**MARTIN**

[Suggestion of mild snark] Is there a difference, though?

**ARCHIVIST**

I, I, I don't know? [Taking the question seriously] Probably not.

 **MARTIN**

[Abrupt regret, audible, like he wishes he'd thought about his feelings on the answer before asking] ...Yeah.

[TAPE ROLLING]

**ARCHIVIST**

...Will you walk back with me?

**MARTIN**

Oh! Yeah, I-- yeah, 'course.

[CLICK]

* * *

Jon's not entirely sure of what he's going to do until he actually does it; it's not like he has a coherent plan. It's just he notices Martin shifting and suddenly the fact of time passing is once again urgent, so he freezes, first, because he's still good at _that_ , and then all at once he seizes the front of Martin's jumper and drags him forward and down so he's close enough to kiss before Jon thinks better of it.

Then he kisses him, which was in fact rather the point.

It's not exactly what Jon would have expected, but he's never been particularly imaginative as far as the future is concerned (and he had not previously admitted, even to himself, that he was imagining this). His lips are predictably warm, and soft overall, and they look chapped because they are, turns out. No great mystery there; Martin certainly chews at them enough to explain that much. Most of it's that he didn't know what to expect from Martin himself, and he still doesn't; Martin's hands come up to grip his elbows but he stays shock-still otherwise, radiating surprise that Jon honestly thinks is overblown at this point.

Martin's mouth had opened slightly on a shocked little noise and Jon could do something with that, outside just drinking it in the usual way, but he doesn't want to, doesn't want to push. At least not like that. Same reason he keeps the disappointment off his face as studiously as he knows how when he pulls back. 

Jon uncurls his fingers, belatedly, leaving the rumpled cloth to be Martin's problem. After another long moment, Martin drops his hands away as well, seems unsure what exactly to do with them -- or him, really. Jon wonders if he was expecting Jon to back away once released.

"Are--" Martin's voice cracks; he swallows, visibly, like he's trying to nudge it back down into place. "Are you just doing this so I'll stay?"

Jon blinks, cocks his head, and asking the question's just reflexive, already would have been for years. "Would it work?"

Martin makes very intense eye contact with a spot somewhere around Jon's right shoulder. "I don't know."

"Hm." Jon gives him a second with that, because he does seem to need it. "All right," he says, and gets a better grip under the collar of Martin's jumper this time.

**Author's Note:**

> People responding to Ocean of Noise: I’m not sure if you mean this romantic, exactly, but—  
> Me: ok so I really do it is only that I am just a little bastard also,
> 
> (But somehow, after all this time, I _still_ couldn't think of a way to sneak [this one joke](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/299880646) into the text proper. The series just _keeps getting longer_ on me, though, so who knows what the future will bring?)
> 
> Comments make me happy enough that (as demonstrated by the first fic, and by this one existing) I get overwhelmed by not knowing how to have emotions and take ages to reply to them, which is a bit of perverse irony as far as its impact on being able to make sure people know how much I appreciate them goes. But I really do.


End file.
